


Home Is Where the Heart Is

by caridia



Series: Tumblr prompts [1]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Nerds being loving nerds, Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4304943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caridia/pseuds/caridia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaneki Ken was approximately on the other side of the earth when his best friend admitted to loving him. There were far too many hours a difference between them, and a brief skype call was all they had time for. Well, and a love confession too, apparently.</p><p>Or: Hide has an uncanny timing, Ken is a true romantic nerd and honestly? Skype is a terrible place for confessions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Is Where the Heart Is

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this on way too little sleep after overindulging in angst on another fic i'll upload later this week. 
> 
> thegodofthewanderers.tumblr.com requested the prompts "things you said after you kissed me" and "things you said with too many miles between us" with hideken and i had fun taking it liberally.

Kaneki Ken was approximately on the other side of the earth when his best friend admitted to loving him. There were far too many hours a difference between them, and a brief skype call was all they had time for. Well, and a love confession too, apparently.

He had frozen in the middle of brushing his hair for the his award ceremony that day. Ken stared at the exhausted friend who just confessed to him, and said with an eloquence only a prized author could muster:

“What?”

Nagachika Hideyoshi had the nerve to laugh at his expression, and it was a blinding sunshine laughter that simply wasn't fair. It was in the middle of the night in Japan, and he had several times already stated how "fricking tired" he was. Seeing the way Hide laughed, Ken was quickly abandoned by his entire vocabulary.

(The confession didn’t help his predicament, either.)

Before he had successfully found words that could rival the magnificent “what” of his ("when" was looking to be a contender, but it was close with a collection of sounds he had last made when he got lost the first day in Madrid), Hide looked at some clock and declared it time to finish the call.

When Hide left the call, Ken was left with the task of making sense of the past ten minutes or so.

He had gotten confessed to. He had been laughed at. He had been left alone with a thousand thoughts and wishes and what-ifs and how on earth was he supposed to handle his award ceremony now?

Not for the first time, he cursed his best friend’s flawless timing. 

* * *

 

The award ceremony went as well as he expected. As soon as he opened his mouth to say "thank you" in stuttering English or Spanish, he risked going through worse humiliation than his accent. Each second was spent trying to not gush to his conversational partner about the confession, or begin waxing romantic poetry about midnight sunshine, or worse.

(He might've begun muttering a poem under his breath, but thankfully the old man he was supposed to talk to didn't speak Japanese. He at least hope he didn't. Kaneki Ken had a reputation to keep up, horror stories were not exactly romantic.)

Needless to say, he was a wreck.

With discipline he didn’t even know he had, he managed to keep himself from embarrassing himself in front of the cream of the crop of horror that night. Mainly because, as soon as he could, he was in a taxi back to the overpriced hotel in the middle of Madrid.

He had no messages waiting from Hide, though. Not one inkling he had even been online at all during the time Ken had been doing author things.

Did he have the courage to send a message to ask what the hell that confession was about? Nope. He did not. He didn’t even consider the idea (for very long at least) because what if he started waxing that sappy poetry on skype, of all places he could humiliate himself in? Were that to happen, there would no longer be a Kaneki Ken anymore. He would turn into a puddle of mushy embarrassment and humiliation, left in some mediocre hotel on the other side of the world of his home. Also, Hide would never let him forget. Not in this life, nor the next. Ever.

With a final glare at the not-green button next to Hide’s name, he closed his laptop and went to bed. He didn’t sleep, but at least the Spanish night didn’t judge him for writing sappy love poems in Japanese to his best friend. 

* * *

 

The final days in Spain were a blur of autographs, interviews and badly written poetry he wrote down in a notebook that he would burn when he returned to Tokyo again. He finally crashed on the plane from sleep deprivation, dreaming about sunshine and and smiles and decades long friendship. Ken was smiling still when he got off the plane. He wasn’t smiling anymore when the first thing he saw was a huge, sparkly sign with “Kaneki Ken” written with the most terrible penmanship he had ever had the pleasure to see.

Hide didn’t fuck around, so to speak.

Ken was literally dragged into a taxi, his suitcases soon thrown into the trunk. Before he even knew it, they were at the apartment they practically shared.

(Ken's own apartment was a dour, lonely thing he rarely stepped his foot in. It was only acceptable during marathon sprints before a deadline. The rest of the time, there was a permanent bed at Hide's with his name on it.)

Hide's 5th floor apartment was a welcome sight when they walked out of the elevator. He had not paid attention to their conversation, and he frankly didn't know what he was agreeing to. It might've been Spanish weather, or the tupé of some author he had met while there. The sound of blood rushing blocked out most of the conversation. He was far too busy reeling with anticipation, and keeping his nervousness at bay to even try to listen to Hide.

There were so many questions Ken had to ask him.

Had Hide been serious with his love confession? How long had he felt like this? Did he even like love poems?

They had stopped outside of Hide's (their) door, and while Ken struggled to figure out whether "Should we move together officially?" was too soon, Hide kissed him briefly and proceeded to open the door.

All Ken’s novels had been lying. Brief kisses doesn’t taste anything, nor do they make you feel like fireworks just went off in your chest. It was more like a hit and run. Ken dragged him and the baggage inside the apartment and pulled him in for another kiss. He wasn’t into hit and runs.

“So eager. Did you miss me that much?” Hide laughed against his mouth, while their hands found the warmth of each others’.

After kissing him once more, Ken suddenly remembered the very compromising poetry he had in his hand baggage. Hide was most definitely not allowed to see that awful notebook. As soon as he could, he would have to burn it in some sort of ritual. For now, he had to distract Hide.

Well, Kaneki Ken smiled at his best friend and probably lover. There were plenty of ways of distracting Hide. As long as he doesn’t get caught, of course. He frowned a little at the prospect.

“I missed you freaking out over details,” he entangled them into some sort of embrace, a beaming smile focused at Ken. ”Stay home for a while, hmm?”

Kaneki Ken looked at his long-time best friend, his most-likely lover, and smiled brightly back at him. Hadn’t Hide been his home for years now?

“I intend to.”

**Author's Note:**

> edit: i am apparently an incredibly shy person and therefore i change the previous text and basically say this: contact me on my writing blog damavmynt.tumblr.com for requests and my fics. cannot have my personal account here, since i am apparently incredibly bad with attention. sorry!
> 
> if you see any mistakes, feel free to tell me, since i edited it quickly and most likely missed something.


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